


When We're Even

by sarcat



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcat/pseuds/sarcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Seattle? Seattle, Washington? We made a two hour run to Seattle? But—“ He pushes more of the brush away until they meet the metal railing of the highway, a visible green sign pitched into the dirt. He’s telling the truth at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We're Even

The end of her pencil has seen better days, but she doesn’t really care. It’s back teetering between her teeth with little thought or concern as the equation still twists in its foreign squiggles before her. Vietnamese literature sounded infinitely better than what she was attempting to do, but even that seemed like something she couldn’t fully focus on. Other things were rattling in her head. Bigger things. They were all stifling, and if she let it fester for too long she worried it would consume her entirely. She couldn’t let herself do that, so preoccupying herself with mundane things was her current escape. School work was her escape.

Not all plans are perfect though. She’s sure she’ll go insane before March 19th even rears its ugly head.

No. Physics. Physics will help, but as her eyes flutter open to escape the current happenings in her mind, there’s something different. One of these things did not belong with her pile of school work.

Pencil. _Fine_. Textbook. _Needed_. Coffee mug. _Pft, essential_. Mysterious blank envelope. _Intruder alert_.

She can feel her lips tugging downward until she’s sure enough that she’s giving the envelop the dirtiest look she can muster, the usual look she spared for the only trolls in her life whom she won’t name out loud (they know who they are). She’s just cautious about the whole thing, and her eyebrow is raised as high as her muscles will allow, pretty annoyingly high.

She believes this type of reaction is natural, the whole bending forward in awkward angles to find the best way to approach the envelope that has materialized out of thin air. Maybe prodding it with her pencil will give her answers. Prod. Nothing happens, and she sighs at how ridiculous she is acting over this before slamming the palm of her hand over it and dragging it closer to her. She manages to bend it at the corners without meaning to, but in the process discovered that there was definitely something inside. She takes a breath before she’s pealing the seal back and the letter is in her hands and her eyes are dissecting each inked letter.

_Artemis,_

_Meet me by the track._

Her gaze flips between that of the letter and then to the mountain of work to be done on the kitchen table. It’s a no brainer really, and her hand is setting her unfinished worksheet between the hundreds of pages that she never planned to read anyway. The book is shut with a quiet thud and she’s grabbing her satchel before she’s telling Nelson to behave and shutting the door quietly behind her.

_This better be good._

— 

She’s not exactly sure what she was expecting, but she should have expected him. He’s leaning against the fence that blocks off the track from intruders, and the collar of his familiar red jacket is slowly swaying in time with the wind. And that’s really all she can focus on to be quite honest. Just him. There’s no fence. There was never a track. It’s just him and his red, red hair and eyes that popped like the first day of spring, brilliant green.

She continues walking while noting the way his features change when he knows someone is approaching, knows she’s approaching. He stands a little taller, and his hands find their way into his jacket pockets. And when he’s pushing his chest up and out there’s a smile that settles over him. It’s been days since she last saw that smile, and it’s mesmerizing, gorgeous.

“Hey, beautiful. What brings you all the way out here?” The sad part is that he knows why, but she placates him instead by crossing her arms over her chest, envelope between two fingers in her right hand.

“It appears that an anonymous person left this on top of my books this morning. I assume this person also has no tact seeing as there is the residue of a splotch of tomato sauce over the exact spot they wanted to meet me at,” she says with her best straight face.

There’s no conceding yet, just a twitch of his lips that threatens a coy smile. He catches himself though, and motions with a quick flick of his head to follow him as he begins a slow, purposeful walk past the open gate that leads onto the track. She eyes him for a moment before her feet look to catch up, in simple stride with him not a moment later. They keep walking, and it’s slow, and completely not like him. He doesn’t say a word, but she imagines he is, imagines that it is grating on the inside of her skull with pretty little promises and ideas.

“So,” she starts when the silence seems insurmountable, “Not to ruin this little thing we currently have going here, but I have an exam to study for, so if we’re just going to walk in silence it would probably be a better idea if I just head back and continue. No offense of course. Or maybe just a little.”

She makes a quick pivot in her step, back in the direction of their apartment. And that’s that. Her chin is already tucked under the pleasant feel of her wool scarf coming up a little past her bottom lip. It only takes her three steps before he hooks his arm around hers and swings them back in the direction they were originally headed.

“Nice try, babe, but you’ll have to do a lot better than that to change my mind about this.” And his cryptic words only further aggravate her. “Besides your next and last exam, mind you, is Physics. I’m practically fluent in that stuff now, so I can help you when we get back. Besides a few hours, maybe a night of no studying won’t do you harm.”

He’s certain. She’s in trouble.

“Wally, did you forget that you are in my class too? What happened to you st—“ He tosses her a grin that stops her mid-sentence. She anticipates a good excuse. 

“Come on babe, it’s me. You already know I started studying for this thing in advance,” he says as he’s turning to face her, and he’s beaming with a certain pride she isn’t willing to break today. He’s excited, and she realizes that her heart’s gotten a little too big for her liking. “Just tonight! That’s all I’m asking for. You’ll thank me for it later! I promise. We’ll be back tomorrow no later than the afternoon. Still gives you plenty of time to brush up on anything else you wanted to before your test on Monday. So, what do you say? Please?”

His earnest eyes are searching hers for an answer, and there’s a great sense of nostalgia there buried under crisp green irises. They are just as huge and wild with a childlike innocence she remembered when being a hero was all new and a good day meant only one thing blew up. She concedes. It wouldn’t matter so much a few weeks from now anyway. She answers with a steady step forward, continuing on their path to wherever it was they were planning to go. 

Her face smashes right into an unmovable force, warm and familiar. He moves quick. It’s a passing thought as she peels her face away from his dull red jacket to meet only his sturdy back. He’s hunched a little lower, waiting. She clears her throat, and his head whips around to meet her.

“Get on.”

“Excuse me?” she asks incredulously.

“It’s a bit far to get there by train. Running will get us there faster. Like an hour and a half since I have to take a back route there. I doubt people are ready to see me running on the highway today,” he says almost like it’s not a big deal. 

She rests her hands on his shoulder, leaning in carefully so she was only a breath away from his ear. “Where are we even going?”

He moves himself backwards suddenly, hitching her from the back of her knees until she’s secure on his back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck for added security after the softest of yelps escapes her.

“Far.”

It’s been a while. The wind feels wonderful on her face.

—

They’re going to stop soon. It’s inevitable and she’s learned over the years how to anticipate it because the wind changes, it rushes forward for a split second before his knees jerk a little less smoothly to accommodate the deceleration. Her hair whips back and away from her face and the blurs are becoming a little more discernible. There are trees, moss, and it’s just very green. And did she mention that she loves it? Because she does, especially when she hears his sneakers break into the dirt and the tips of his sneakers are smeared with green from the forest floor.

He survey’s the area, turning with her still clinging to his back. “Yep, we’re here.”

His hold slackens and she’s touching the Earth for the first time in two hours. She raises an arm over her head in a mock stretch as he pushes his goggles away from his eyes and off of his head.

“Sooooo…” She lets the word stretch for a few seconds before letting it die on her tongue. She follows him when he moves abruptly, shuffling past a few loose tree branches that look broken from past storms.

“Whelp, what if I told you we were about a mile away from Seattle?” he chuckles nervously.

“Seattle? Seattle, Washington? We made a two hour run to Seattle? But—“ He pushes more of the brush away until they meet the metal railing of the highway, a visible green sign pitched into the dirt. He’s telling the truth at least. The blaring white letters prove it, but it’s not until he’s tugging at her sleeve and she catches the sight he’s so eager for her to see. The skyline, it’s incredible, it’s tall, it’s proud.

Thoughts of Gotham threaten to rip her throat into pretty little shreds because she almost says it stupidly. She keeps it in. She feels ridiculous for it even coming to mind. Nothing was like Gotham, but maybe that was okay. It was just really nice finally being within city limits, especially a city like this.

“Yep, Seattle. Apparently a couple of cool things are happening today. Thought you might like to partake? We made good time too. It’s only 1 o’clock and—hey!” She’s got a snug hold of his sleeve and she’s pulling hard.

“Come on you. I need some coffee and you need food I presume,” she says matter-of-factly.

The sound of his rumbling stomach almost sounds like a weeping child—or something like a monster eating a weeping child—and it’s ridiculously timed, like this was part of the plan to begin with.

“I know this little place by the harbor,” he starts as he lets her lead her the remainder of the mile they had left to walk. And she can tell that he doesn’t mind it, the slow pace that was his opinion alone, or the fact that her hand snuck into his and entangled itself between his fingers as they approached the quarter mile. 

—

The coffee is warm, and her eagerness is rewarded with the smart burn on her tongue that she’s now cradling between her teeth. It’s worth it though. She’d gladly burn her tongue here multiple times to smell the richness of this coffee again. He must not have noticed because he’s still stuffing his face with the large stack of pancakes drenched in syrup, bits of bacon swimming in irregular shaped pools of it at the bottom. She honestly doesn’t blame him though because the smell of maple here almost makes her drool unattractively. Well everything smells pretty incredible here, and the place gets double points for being so bustling, but so inviting at the same time. She thinks it’s called the 5 Spot. She’s not sure why yet, but it doesn’t really matter because she’s too wrapped up in watching a bit of syrup dribbling from the corner of his lips. 

She pulls her tongue back in, rubbing it gingerly against the roof of her mouth before she attempts the impossible. “Can I try a bite?”

He almost looks wounded, offended. Yep, definitely offended because he’s holding his fork up close to his chest and scooting his massive plate closer for protection.

“Isn’t the huevos rancheros enough?!” he protests between mouthfuls of pancake and swirls of syrup. It’s a language she has perfected, something important to master considering how devoted he was to keeping up with his high metabolism that he made sure everyone knew about even if they didn’t ask.

“Wally, seriously? Are you five? I’m asking for a bite, not $50,000 from your bank account. Besides this is your third plate of food,” she huffs as her fist digs into the tattered leather covers of the booth seats. 

He pouts a little before returning to slowed chews, and she can see the gears in his head turning. She smirks when she watches him sandwich a few pieces of neatly cut pancake pieces on to his fork and shove it in front of her face.

“Here.” And she lets out an undignified snort before leaning into her hand that is propped up on the table.

“Now was that so hard?” she asks while watching his eyes shift over to her.

“Just eat it already before I change my mind.” And she does, right off of his fork and she understands why he was trying to hoard them all to himself. A low moan leaves her, appreciating every bit that was swirling around her tongue.

“Stop that!” The tips of his ears are a little pinker then they should have been. She just smirks.

—

They’re by the water, and her jacket couldn’t be more appreciated then at this time.

She sees him lean forward, comfortable and probably warm. Damn his ridiculous body heat.

“Cold, babe?” He’s smug. She just shoves her bare hands deep in her pockets.

“Not really,” she says as she takes a few quick steps ahead of him.

He catches up without a problem, and he’s got his arm around her waist in an instant, pulling her close. It doesn’t help too much, but she does like the company.

“Better?” She doesn’t want to deny him anything.

“Nothing, but.”

“Guess, I can’t convince you to watch a Seahawks game here tomorrow, huh?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Wally, we didn’t come all the way up here so you could watch football.”

“It was worth a shot,” he murmurs against her temple.

—

“It’s Jimi Hendrix Wally. Do you understand what I am saying?” she asks, more like states, with wide eyes. “Jimi Hendrix.” You know, just in case he forgot after the last eight times she said it. She had no idea a museum like this existed.

“I’m aware. I figured you’d like this museum a lot.”

She does everything but squeal as she’s staring in awe over the wall of guitars, the pictures, the memories. And if it couldn’t be any more perfect there’s the music. The brilliant hums and buzzes of perfectly plucked strings throughout the exhibition. It’s like when she’s ten for the first time and her father was out doing ‘business’, but she doesn’t feel all too alone because she has stories of mad hatters and wicked grins and sounds of Castles Made of Sand playing in her ears. And sometimes she fell asleep like that, cradled by it, and god it’s playing now.

“This is oddly perfect. How—“

“Internet,” he says as he approaches her from behind. He wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder, “I did good?”

Her hand comes to rest over his as the strings whirl and twinge as the words fade. Hendrix was too brilliant for his own good.

“Yep. Better than good.”

“Does that mean I get a free pass on Valentine’s Day next year if I forget?” And she hopes he can see her rolling her eyes in front of the glass display, but if he doesn’t she’s already turning to face him sporting half-lidded eyes.

“Not a chance.”

—

She’s pealing with laughter because he’s soaked, but it makes her forget how heavy her hair feels hanging and dripping sloppily over her shoulder. Wally was never very good at planning things all the way through. Maybe if she knew they were going to be in Seattle she would have snagged an umbrella in the least before leaving the apartment after him. It’s a bit too late for that, and they could both blame themselves for being lost for the few hours they wondered the streets just talking warmly and not noticing the darkening sky until the drops were already falling over them.

They run. Well he’s sprinting and she’d never make it at his pace, so he doubles back and grabs her wrist to convince her to go a little faster down the street with him. And then they are inside, and huffing, and it is here that he declares that this was where they were staying anyway, so it’s more of a good fortune that it rains. All his words, not hers.

It’s nothing particularly fancy. Just one of those chain Days Inns. But he jams his finger against the arrowed button signaling the elevator that will take them to their room.

“I actually sent some of our stuff here ahead of us. Like yesterday,” he says while fidgeting in place. He’s got a lot of energy from the run, and his leg is rattling before the bing sounds overhead. They get in. It’s just them. Things escalate pretty quickly, but that’s how they always are. 

She’s cold. It’s the first thing she registers when he’s handling her, kissing her hotly against the dip in her neck. She bites down on her lip, hands fisting into the material of his damp jacket. He’s kissing up her jaw until his warm breath is carrying words over her ears.

“Artemis.” And he usually doesn’t say her name anymore. He’s said it a few more times than she was used to, like he was afraid he was never going to have a chance to say it again. “Couldn’t wait till we were in the privacy of our own room at least?”

She’s warm now, just wet. 

“That’s—” she starts, but he stops her with his mouth. He’s breathing hard, and her lips are moving in happy tandem with his. And she’s not sure if she needs anything else but this. He flicks a careful tongue against her bottom lip, and she reconsiders that thought. “You can’t blame me for this.”

The elevator is slow. Thank god. They probably still have a good 15 seconds before the door finally opens on the 15th floor. He kisses her a little harder, and it feels particularly urgent especially when she feels his hands flicking the button of her jeans open.

She jams her fist over the emergency stop button. After all, this was an emergency. 

—

The Space Needle is something they had to do. It’s such an iconic building that if they didn’t, if they weren’t that far up they would kick themselves for it later. And it’s just as much of a classic as they thought it would be. They get off the elevator, and the city and its lights are still ridiculously bright, burned to the back of her retinas.

They push open the doors, and the sky is just getting darker. It’s taking on its hues of dark blues and pinks all bursting and poking behind the setting orange sun. And the day is coming to a close and everything that they’ve done so far has been everything and spectacular. But now there are questions swirling around her head. And they are mainly ones that start with whys.

He’s already heading closer to the pier. She follows after him, stopping him, and her words leave a frigid outline of her breath in the air, “Wally, hold on a second.”

He looks perplexed, face screwing up in confusion as he stops. “You okay?”

She must look a little frazzled, but she doesn’t let that phase her. “I am. Actually fantastic, really. This whole thing is way more perfect then I could have imagined.”

Wally smiles with something close to satisfaction, so he pats the top of her shoulder. “Well that’s good right?” He lets his hand fall away, and its back at his side as his gaze is lit up by his sudden shift in attention at the Ferris Wheel, The Seattle Great Wheel, with lights that ebbed against the blanket of the darkening sky. “Come on! We still have to catch the wheel! I hear at this time when the crowds start leaving they give you an extra go around.”

She’s rough this time, pulling on his shoulder and pushing him harshly against the weak wood of the abandoned food stand right at the corner. All she smells is salt water, and it’s fresh and clean as it filters through her nostrils. Everything always smells that clean after a rain storm.

“Why?” she demands.

“Why, what?” he asks with an honest sense of confusion.

“Don’t play cheeky with me. You know what I’m asking. About this. This sudden trip to here of all places. Why here, why today? And then you keep treating like everything is the last time. Like you do things, and then you give that exact look you’re giving me now. What gives!?” And she’s not sure why it sounds so angry, but it rattles through her. She can see her words sinking in especially when his expression falls and he’s got her wrists in his hands and he’s stopping her from pressing into his shoulders even harder.

“Hold on! Artemis, hold on!” he nearly shouts. She hadn’t even realized she was struggling in his grasps. He grips her shoulders. It takes her a minute to stop, but when she does he has her attention completely. “Listen to me, okay? I just wanted to get away with you. That’s all. I mean. The both of us know what’s going to happen in a few weeks. I just—“

“You want to remember me while I’m still around? Well that’s just swell, Wally. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she scoffs as she frees herself from his hold.

“Will you calm down!?” he ekes out when he sees her turn away from her. She’s shaking, but he doesn’t have to know that. She doesn’t want to admit that to herself either. Life sucked.

“No, I won’t calm down. Honestly, how dare you?” Her fist is twisting itself into the wood, and it’s bending, creaking weakly as it splinters.

“Artemis, you didn’t even let me finish!” She’s already walking away, and when she hears his feet moving after her, she just books it down the length of the pier. He’ll definitely catch up, but whatever. It gives her a second to clear the muddiness that is her mind.

“God, damnit.” The pier was too short, and he’s already there. This was the major problem with having a speedster as a boyfriend.

“Babe?” he asks affectionately at first, but when she doesn’t respond he’s gripping the back of her shoulder, “Artemis? Can I just say one thing? If it’s not good enough, I’ll leave. Just—“

“Make it good, make it count,” she says while shaking his hand off, and giving him a murdering look.

“Do you understand what you’re asking me to do? In a few weeks you’re going to be…it’s hard knowing that you’ll be…”

“Dead?” she fits in the words, unafraid.

“Pretty much. Not real dead, but—“ he’s running a single hand over his face in frustration, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to find the words, “I just wanted to be selfish. Is that wrong of me? I wanted a day with just us, no distractions, no school, no interruptions. Just a good time to keep holding on to because Dick hasn’t even told me when he thinks you’ll be back, and I can only assume that it will be longer then I can handle. I don’t doubt you for a second, Artemis.” He touches her, brings her back to him, to his hold and she lets him. “I’m just being a pathetic sap. I want us to be happy now, always. Was that too lame?”

She feels the corners of her mouth tugging, and yes, it’s lames, but she appreciates it. Maybe that was why they worked. She’s not all too sure about that, but she doesn’t dwell on it because she did need this getaway, and for the same reasons, maybe more.

“Yeah, it was,” she says with a sigh, “I’m sorry I freaked. I honestly hate these things, these moments cause it just makes me realize how scared I am about this.”

He finds her hand, tangled fingers, and they’re moving again. They’re getting closer to the wheel and the lights are flowing and dazzling the night sky.

“Everything will be fine,” he reassures her numerous times that night. At least 8 more as they are revolving around for a third time, overlooking the city past the water. She does nothing, but believes him.

—

It’s morning already, and her muscles ache, and she wonders how relaxing this trip was meant to be. Wally failed that part of the mission if it was planned, but it’s forgivable. She forgives him for a lot of things. She forgives him for forgetting to hang their clothes to dry before they ventured off to the Space Needle cause now they are still damp and heavy. She forgives him for having such a stupid face and freckles she can’t bear to get over especially when those freckles are wrapped around lean muscle, arms that stopped her from doing so many stupid things by holding her and promising her not to let go. She also figures she forgives him for how defensive he’ll probably be when she steals a sausage off of his plate later in the morning. But most importantly, she’ll forgive him for this trip. She’ll forgive him for wasting any time on her because she still feels like she doesn’t deserve it, not this much thought ever.

She had a big enough heart to do all of this forgiving.

—

He sweeps her off her feet, and she swears she’ll hit him if he ever thinks this will be the last time.

Not a chance.

_Home is still just 2 hours away._


End file.
